Hooch Through The Ages
by Troodon
Summary: Rolanda Hooch: A series of snapshots that finally bring more insight into this neglected Qudditch maniac and instructor. Please excuse the cheesy title, though I'm secretly quite proud of it.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: I thought it would be interesting to write about a character who is often ignored. I chose"Rolanda" as Hooch's name because it sounded more natural and the Hooch in my imagination demanded to be called Ro. She also demanded the extremely cheesy title, by the way. I hope you enjoy, and please tell me what you think. Thanks.

_Disclaimer: Any characters, places and other things in the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and the publisher, etc etc. I am not making money off this, I have no pocket, so save your money._

Summary: Looking at Rolanda Hooch's life through a series of snapshots.

* * *

**Hooch Through The Ages**

1.

A baby's gurgle broke the stillness of the night, and within seconds, introduced her parents to a whole new meaning of noise: she opened her mouth, dribbled, and wailed lustily.

Her father sighed with relief, holding his new daughter gingerly with the slightly intimidated and awed expression of a man only just introduced to parenthood. His wife looked up adoringly at the swaddled baby, tired but happy.

The midwife said cheerfully, "Well, there's nothing wrong with _her_ lungs at any rate."

The father said nothing and could only smile through his tears.

* * *

2.

A little while later:

"My goodness," she said blankly. "Her eyes are yellow. Like a hawk's, don't you think?"

* * *

3.

It was an idyllic day, with blue sky and bright sunshine. She opened the shutters and let the morning air wash over her even as she washed the dishes. One could not escape chores, no matter how sunny days and fresh breezes tempted her to simply leave everything and go outside.

Something moving very fast in the sky caught her eye. Was that a bird? It would be quite a big one. No, it was a broom. She frowned. It couldn't be Robert; he was upstairs tinkering with his clocks. They weren't expecting any guests. Ro was playing outside. And the broom's movements were very erratic, behaving as if the rider was drunk. She leaned out further and squinted, a hint of suspicion blossoming…

_Ro was playing outside!_

With a gasp of dismay the dishes were forgotten. She wrung her hands distractedly and turned to run outside, calling frantically to her husband, "Ro's gotten into the brooms again!"

Up in the sky, unconsciously causing her parents heart attacks, three-year old Rolanda Hooch laughed delightedly as she discovered the joys of flight.

* * *

4.

_Oh, dear. She's—_

With an undignified skid the owl managed to land on the windowsill and ducked inside, safe for the time being from an utterly mad little girl who liked to chase owls on her broom. She should've _known_. All the neighbourhood birds had gossiped about this.

"Maria! Letter's here!"

The owl winced as the man's yell shocked her sensitive ears. She had not seen this strange human before and so took a minute to observe the man's dirty apron, round spectacles, and handlebar moustache. Several odd bits of metal were stuck in various apron pockets. An interesting being, she decided.

Remembering her duty, she stuck out her leg and let the man untie the letter. Out of habit, he tipped over a cup of water for her absentmindedly.

The owl hooted her thanks, but the man was already gone, screeching to his mate.

_Crazy man_, she thought, watching the edges of his apron disappear around a corner. _Overexcited. Must be the heat. _

After a couple sips of water, she wearily prepared to fly north back home. Before she lifted her wings she scanned the skies warily. It wouldn't do her reputation any good to have the maniac human girl after her again.

* * *

5.

The hat was too big. And it was _old_.

Without her ears, the hat would've dropped down to her nose. She frowned a bit and took the pointed hat off, her fingers running over the worn lining and the dusty felt.

"Dad, mum's hat's too big for me."

He shrugged and said, "We'll save some money this way, Ro."

She nodded, sighing dramatically and rolling her yellow eyes. Dad smiled and laughed. Frankly, she didn't care much about old hats or robes or books. She only wanted a new broom. Silver Arrows were getting _so_ out of date.

* * *

6.

For the second time in a week, another big hat sat on Ro's head: the Sorting Hat.

That hat was bigger than her mum's. _And_ it was very, very old. Older than her mum's.

Even her ears couldn't save it from sliding over her eyes. Feeling overwhelmed and lost, she sat on the stool and waited for the Hat's verdict. Coming from a family of Hufflepuffs, she had no doubt that would be her house. She didn't mind. Hufflepuff was every bit as good as the others. Still, she wondered in the weeks leading up to September the first whether she, Rolanda Hooch, was a Hufflepuff.

She didn't seem to fit their criteria. What would she do if she became a Hufflepuff and couldn't live up to—

That was when the Sorting Hat decided as well. It opened its mouth wide and shouted:

"Gryffindor!"

And young Rolanda Hooch breathed a sigh of relief. She could be as reckless as she wanted to be…!

* * *

And that's the end of the first instalment. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: My second installment of snapshots in Hooch's life, as I try to capture her character in both humorous (I hope) and dramatic moments. Please leave a review and tell me your thoughts about this. Thanks!

_Disclaimer: Please refer to the first chapter._

* * *

7. 

"_Hooch?_ What kind of name is _that_?"

In her first week at Hogwarts, Rolanda Hooch had gotten used to being disconcerted. Right now she wished she had a biting retort ready, but she always thought of those sarcastic witty comebacks lying awake at night.

So instead she turned around calmly and confronted the voice that had mocked her name, and found her eyes staring at a pair of broad shoulders in profile. She craned her neck backwards and sideways. An equally broad face, bright with good humour, grinned down at her. Reassured by the grin, Rolanda decided she might like this big girl and replied with an edge in her voice, "It's _my_ name."

The giantess roared in laughter and slapped her hard on the back. Rolanda choked on her mouthful of pumpkin juice.

"Good answer! Good!" And she laughed again.

Rolanda, wondering whether all Gryffindors were this strange, plucked up more of her nerves and asked, "What's your name?"

"Gwendolyn Morgan," the big girl said, her brown eyes daring her. Ro accepted the challenge.

"_Gwendolyn?_ What kind of name is that for _you_?"

Gwendolyn Morgan shouted again with laughter. The other students at the table didn't bat an eyelash. They were used to her noise. Later Ro would discover Morgan could and would laugh easily at anything except Quidditch. For Gwendolyn Morgan Quidditch was serious business.

* * *

8. 

_Where am I?_

Her foot hesitated on the staircase as she realized she had no idea where she was; she did not even know what floor of Hogwarts she climbing up to. She bit her lip and looked around, surveying the empty landing. Why couldn't they hand out maps or something? Her memory wasn't worth nuts, this was the thousandth time she had gotten lost, there were no nearly headless knights to help her this time, she was going to be late for Charms _again_—

Then she caught herself. It wasn't like her to be this panicky. She was late anyway. She wasn't going to get into any more trouble. She could _not, _she asserted, daring the fates. Forcing a grin, she took a step up.

And her right foot fell through air and the vanishing step and she dropped, her right leg wedged painfully between two stone steps.

* * *

9. 

The school doctor got her fixed up quickly with movements and incantations that seemed too well practiced.

"Don't be so embarrassed. You weren't the first, nor will you be the last," She was told briskly. Her throat was hoarse from yelling and her bruised leg still ached.

"Why can't they get rid of those steps?" she asked plaintively. She knew she was whining but she couldn't bring herself to care.

He only shook his head with a slight smile and said, "Water?" She accepted proffered glass resignedly. Only the second week and she had already been sent to the infirmary.

* * *

10. 

Transfiguration!

"Ah," Rolanda grabbed fistfuls of her hair in overdramatic frustration. She was too tired to even draw out her groan. Other students glanced amusedly at her and she smiled crookedly back and tried again. And again...until the common room emptied and the hands on the clock tiptoed steadily towards midnight.

"Help me?" she finally asked a short redheaded boy. He shook his head and shrugged with an I'm-as-bad-as-you-are expression. Before she could protest he had disappeared.

The match stayed a match despite her efforts. She itched to light it on fire instead.

* * *

11. 

Flying lessons!

As if she needed them. On the signal Ro leapt on the Cleansweep Two and the broom jumped eagerly into the sky. Merlin's beard, she'd missed this. Flying. Even if the Cleansweep was wobbly and drove splinters into her palm. Fine, she missed her old but beloved Silver Arrow as well. She didn't even care when the instructor called her down for flying too high.

There was only one problem, now that Ro had rediscovered her love. Why, oh _why_ couldn't first years join the Quidditch team?

She'll figure out a way.

* * *

12. 

The redheaded boy waved his wand and muttered. The match turned willingly into a shiny thin twig-like object with a sharp point. There was no denying that it was a fine needle. It seemed to mock her as Rolanda stared in astonishment.

"So why didn't you help me yesterday?" she demanded.

The boy shrugged.

"Stop doing that. It's infuriating when you pretend to be modest," she retorted to his silence. "How come you hide it all the time? You're _good_ at Transfiguration!"

Now the boy blushed as red as his hair and mumbled, "WellyouknowIdon'twanttoshowoffandum…"

Rolanda waited for a translation. The boy cleared his throat.

"Well, um, I don't, you know, want to show off and…um, yes," he said awkwardly, many awkward moments later. He moved his hands in small circles as he talked, and even his ears grew red as he talked.

"That's not showing off. It's showing that you're good."

"And I don't pretend to be modest," he added, surprisingly fiercely. "I _don't_."

"Okay," Rolanda said, backing off with new respect for him. He did have some backbone after all. They surveyed each other intently. Finally she said, uncomfortably, "What's your name? I mean…maybe I should say first. I'm Ro—"

"You're Rolanda Hooch. I know. Everybody knows," he interrupted, grinning a little and continued, "I'm Basil Weasley."


End file.
